


The Old Centurian of Rome

by Zazibine



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fear of Death, Gen, Historical, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Purple Prose, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 03:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17655305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zazibine/pseuds/Zazibine
Summary: Let me take you back in time, and allow me to be your guide as we visit an old roman centurion, who is learning of what it is like to be forgotten.





	The Old Centurian of Rome

**Author's Note:**

> To those of you who have read my other stories, you know I love to tread the darker paths of life, and that I love to dredge up stories of sorrow, of insanity, of death, of life, and of love itself. I have made it my duty to take these forgotten tales of woe and wonder and bring them into the light. I have told you many tales of doom and despair so now, perhaps, a brighter story is in order...

We come to an evergreen forest, dark and shadowy and gilt with frost, and to an old roman soldier lying underneath a palace of stars. His sword, chipped at the edges, tells the story of countless battles. Now his sword lies at his side, at rest from fighting countless enemies. An old, moth-eaten blanket covers the warrior, a thin layer between him and the November chill above, but the centurion cares not for he remembers worse. Much, much worse...

He remembers nights he spent with his troops, fighting men and frostbite alike. Alas, his poor troops! So many brave souls led to their deaths! Who was left to remember them but he? The old soldier began thinking... would he, too, be forgotten? He thought back to the nations he fought, the cities his armies destroyed. He thought of his victories, his defeats. These could not be forgotten...could they? Some day, he would die, and all of his friends, his enemies, they would die too. All destined to die alone, forgotten, lost in the darkness of times gone by. Their stories of him, never carried on into the bright, new world of the next generation. His victories, his defeats, forgotten!

The old, weary warrior reasoned with himself, surely his body, his name would remain when he has passed! But all too soon, memories of his fallen comrades crept up on him, the unmarked graves, the headless corpses, torn and bloodied beyond recognition. Their tombs, nothing more than shallow pits, sometimes without so much as a coin for the toll to the next life. Would this be his fate? The centurion shuddered, suddenly feeling the biting cold. He felt himself grow heavy with the dark thoughts of death, despair, and the fate of the forgotten. Bleakly, the warrior, the soldier searched his memories for something that would stand the test of time. Oh beautiful, dreaded time!

 

Suddenly, like a fire being sparked into being, it hits him! His legacy, his history, all contained within the beautiful walls of Rome! The wondrous city, filled with the houses of his friends and family. The well where he watered his first horse, the camp where he trained to be a soldier, the gate through which he marched to fight the enemies of the magnificent jewel that is Rome! Rome, so wondrous, would never fade, and would carry the story of the battles he fought to protect her! And so, the weary warrior drifted to sleep in this forest gilt with frost, and dreamed of the glorious jewel, the city he lived for, his home... the beautiful city of Rome.

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of my oldest works cross-posted from Young Writers Society. I think this is one of my favorites when it comes to stuff I've written, but in hindsight I really hope this doesn't come across as pretentious.


End file.
